


sudden as a storm, sweet as summer hay

by MistressKat



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Road Trip, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-28
Updated: 2010-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-06 18:45:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressKat/pseuds/MistressKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>This thing moved from lust to something else, something infinitely worse, a long time ago, and now it's too late for Jared to back out and equally impossible to move forward, so he's stuck like this, aching and hollow and stupid in love.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	sudden as a storm, sweet as summer hay

**Author's Note:**

> Ages ago I did a picspam creatively titled "Jensen Ackles – sex on legs" and [pushkin666](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pushkin666) made me write some comment-fic based on [this photo](http://i112.photobucket.com/albums/n163/kat_lair/SPN/Untitled-2.jpg). Several months later my brain decided that it would be a good idea to finish it. I'm relatively sure she mind-whammied me somehow. Beta-duty by the irreplaceable [virtualinsomnia](http://virtualinsomnia.livejournal.com/) who deserves some sort of shrine for all her help.

So, they're on this road trip, which was totally Jensen's idea, and Jared wasn't going to do it because a week alone with Jensen's smile and his 'fuck me' eyes and that little dip at the back of his neck that Jared absolutely did _not_ want to nuzzle and smell first thing in the morning like a goddamn girl would be just too fucking much. But it's not like he's ever been able to say no to Jensen, so they're on a road trip, okay? And maybe it's kinda cool, with just the car and the two of them, quiet drinks in skeevy bars, singing along to the radio, Jensen's freckles becoming more and more prominent from the sun. And if Jared's hand strays to Jensen's skin a bit more often than usual, neither of them is talking about it, so it's all fine, really.

Then one day there's a rain storm. Jared loves storms, has ever since he was a little boy, so it comes as a bit of a surprise when Jensen goes white and tight-lipped, clenching the steering wheel until Jared's afraid he's going to snap the thing in two. They're in the middle of nowhere, and Jensen insists on driving until the next town, but Jared thinks they might not make it that far if the way Jensen keeps flinching and swerving the car every time there's a flash of lightning is any indication. So. He does what in retrospect is a really fucking dumb idea and tells Jensen to stop the car on the side of the field because they're going to spend the night in the derelict barn that droops in the distance. Jensen looks at him like he's lost his marbles, but then there's another roll of thunder, and he kills the engine without a word.

They cross the field in what Jared would call a flat-out run, if they weren't too manly for that sort of thing. The barn's old and musty, but it's relatively dry. Jensen strips off his outer layer and proceeds to curl up in the nearest haystack, still clearly freaked out. The tense line of his shoulders says 'back off' but Jared's never been good with keeping away, even when it would be the best thing for everyone. He sits down next to Jensen, almost but not quite touching, arms around his knees, and starts on a long rambling tale about his grandpappy and that one time the neighbor's bull got loose.

Eventually the storm passes, and in the silence, Jared can hear Jensen snoring softly. He stays awake for a little while longer, just listening to Jensen breathe, head in his hands, because _Jesus_ could he be any more pathetic? This thing moved from lust to something else, something infinitely _worse_, a long time ago, and now it's too late for Jared to back out and equally impossible to move forward, so he's _stuck_ like this, aching and hollow and stupid in love.

In the morning, Jared's the first one to wake up. The sunlight is streaming through the gaps in the wall, the dust particles dancing in the pale golden dawn. He sits up, stretches, looks around, eyes landing on Jensen's still sleeping form. And that's when it all goes to hell. Because Jensen looks like sin purified, his long eyelashes casting sweeping shadows across his face, fingers splayed over his stomach like an invitation, and Jared is so, so fucked.

He doesn't know he's moving until he feels the rough sting of stalks against his palms, now resting on either side of Jensen's head. He's hovering above him, mesmerised by the play of shadow and light, by the rise and fall of his chest, desperately trying to pull off because this isn't— he shouldn't— just this once—

And that's when Jensen opens his eyes.

 

***

 

It's warm.

Somewhere at the back of his mind Jensen knows that logically this shouldn't be the case, because as far as he remembers he fell asleep in a goddamn _barn_, and while it’s not the worst place he's ever lost consciousness in, it's not particularly great either.

Except for the part where it apparently is. He feels himself floating toward full awareness, slowly, slowly like an air bubble reaching for the water's surface. Sunlight tickles his nose and the feeling of safelovehome is trickling down every inch of his body like warm honey.

He opens his eyes and smiles. Because this is a dream, not first of its kind, Jared draped over him like a cloak, all long lines of hard muscle. Jensen lifts a hand, lets his fingertips trail along the soft worn cloth of Jared's t-shirt, finally dipping under the hem.

At the first touch of skin on skin Jared arches, rubbing his belly against Jensen's flat palm like a big cat. "Jen," he swallows, head dropping lower until Jensen can feel every careful exhalation on his face. "Jen, what are you doing?"

Jensen opens his mouth to speak but the words freeze on his lips, his heart suddenly slamming into overdrive. Because no matter how vivid his dreams, he's never before been able to actually _taste_ the sweat and musk and want, wrapped around them like a veil.

Shit.

He's _awake_. He's really awake, and Jared's really bent over him, the question still ringing in the half an inch between them, and Jensen really, really did just molest his best friend.

He scrambles back on his elbows so fast Jared is knocked out of balance and ends up face down in the straw. Jensen takes a great hitching gasp of air, but none of it seems to reach his lungs, and for a second he thinks he might actually pass out. Of course, at the moment the prospect is not entirely without its merits.

 

***

 

Jared actually thinks he’s going to die. Just fucking _stop living_ right here on the mouldy barn floor, stalks of hay caught in his hair, t-shirt still half-rucked up from where Jensen touched him, because now that he’s stopped, Jared can’t breathe, and it _hurts_.

It’s just too cruel to have that and then have it taken away, but it’s his own fault for risking the most important thing in his life just because he couldn’t keep his goddamn hands to himself, and now he’s going to have to fix this, but he doesn’t even know where to begin and—

“I’m sorry. I’m… Jay, I’m sorry.” Jensen’s voice interrupts his panic attack more effectively than a slap on the face, and Jared is half-way across the floor before he can think better of it, because Jensen should never sound like that; broken and resigned.

But the thing is, he _does_, and it’s all because Jared messed up, because Jared wants more than he can have, because Jared is so deep and wrapped up in Jensen that he can’t see sense or daylight.

“What you sorry for, Jensen? I’m the one who should apologise. I’m the one who…” He scoots closer on all fours, knees scraping the rough planks, until he’s near enough to see the pulse beating under the pale skin of Jensen’s throat, fast and frantic like a caged bird.

And that’s when Jared looks, really _looks_ at Jensen for the first time since they sprung apart like sparks from a fire, and what he sees makes his insides twist. Jensen is huddled in on himself, knees tucked to his chest, hands in tight fists like he’s ready for a fight he expects to lose. Everything is quiet around them, the world trapped outside, morning peeking in from between the wall boards like a curious child, and Jared can’t stop himself from reaching out anymore than he can stop the planet from turning.

“Jen.” Under his palm Jensen’s shoulder is warm and rock hard, muscles singing with tension, and it’s wrong, all wrong, Jared expected pity or betrayal or maybe anger, but not this. “I’m the one who… It’s me, Jen._ I_ did… _I_ wanted to…” And _god_, he’s such a pussy, can’t even finish a sentence, much less an apology. Jared draws air through clenched teeth, furious at himself, but then Jensen lifts his head, his eyes meeting Jared’s and every single thought stutters to halt, and it feels like his heart does too.

Because Jensen looks scared and hopeful, and all of a sudden it’s like every angle smoothes out and something soft and warm steals across his face, tilting against the back of Jared’s hand.

“You wanted to…?” Jensen’s hand drifts over, fingertips coming to rest against Jared’s stomach at the exact same spot they’d been before, the touch light and hesitant. Jared’s breath hitches a little, and his nails dig into Jensen’s shoulder in a way that’s probably painful, but simply can’t be helped at the moment. Jensen’s whole body curls open, toward Jared, and his voice drops almost too low to hear. “Is this… Jared, is this okay? This what you wanted?”

Jared wraps his fingers around Jensen’s wrist and pushes his hand under the t-shirt, laying Jensen’s palm flat against his belly. “Yeah,” he says. “Jen.” They’re both shaking.

Jensen makes a sound like a bitten-off sob, wanting and desperate, and Jared knows he’s going to have to be the one to close the final distance.

So he does.

 

***

 

Jared slips into the sharp cracks of Jensen’s heart like warm water pouring in, and by the time their lips brush against each other for the first time, Jensen already knows Jared is going to be the last person he ever kisses. His hands are hungry and open on Jared’s skin, pushing the t-shirt out of the way, fingers splayed over smooth muscle. Jared arches into his touch like he’s done it a thousand times before, and Jensen lets himself be pulled closer until they’re sitting chest to chest, Jensen’s legs thrown over Jared’s hips, arms tangled between them.

The taste of Jared’s mouth is familiar in a way it really shouldn’t be, his tongue a sweet wet pressure against Jensen’s bottom lip, and Jensen sinks into the feeling, inviting him in. It’s desert heat and home, a weight like last night’s storm building inside him until Jensen’s bursting with it, moaning and clutching sweat slick skin with both hands, Jared’s back twisting under them.

Jared keeps saying his name between the kisses _Jen, Jensen,_ like it’s a question he doesn’t quite know how to ask, but Jensen writes the answer with long sweeps of his tongue against the roof of Jared’s mouth anyway: _Yes. Yes. Jared._

Finding out that Jared wants this as much as him does nothing to calm the fluttering nervousness in his stomach. If anything, it makes it worse; the urgent _thud-thud-thud_ of his heart is almost painfully loud, hammering away in his chest like it’s trying to break free. Having something you want this much is scarier that just the wanting, and Jensen’s trembling with it, helpless and flayed open with emotion.

Jared rears back for a second, tugs off his own t-shirt with one swift move and goes after Jensen’s like he’s got a personal vendetta against it. And then it’s nothing but bare skin, golden and lust warm.

Jensen leans back and pulls Jared on top of him, between his legs; doesn’t care what it says about him – hopes it says enough – because he wants to _feel_ Jared, every inch and pound and breath, pinning him to the ground, mouthing hot wet nonsense words against Jensen’s collarbones, down his chest and— “Please. Oh fuck, _please_.”

“What? Jen, tell me what you want.” Jared’s eyes are inky, all heat and pupil, and Jensen has to thread his fingers in Jared’s hair and literally lift his head up so he can see them, because it’s like Jared is physically incapable of letting go of Jensen’s skin, even for a second.

“Anything.” Jensen’s voice comes out raw and hurried, like gravel under tires. “Everything. Just…” Jared’s clever, beautiful hands are unbuckling Jensen’s belt, pulling down his jeans and underwear and the rest of that sentence fades into a harsh groan, which is probably for the best as Jensen has no idea what he was going to say anyway.

He struggles up onto his elbows, because _Jesus Christ_ Jared’s _mouth_. Jared’s wide, hot, fucking illegal mouth is wrapping itself around Jensen’s dick and he has to _see_, even if that’s the last thing he ever does. Jared whines a little as he’s going down, like sucking Jensen off is something he’s been desperate to do for a really long time, and Jensen can’t help himself, just bucks right up into it, fisting Jared’s hair with one hand, the other digging grooves into the filthy floor boards.

Jared’s hands are pushing him down, huge enough to cup his hips and span almost the entire width of his middle, and Jensen fucking _loves_ that; loves knowing that Jared won’t let go no matter what, that Jared is holding on to Jensen like he plans on keeping him.

Jared moans, deep and dirty like he’s the one getting blown, flutters his tongue around the head of Jensen’s cock, throat tightening impossibly, and that’s it, that’s all it takes. Jensen is flying apart at the seams, losing count of all the pieces of himself, everything disappearing in a whitehot rush of pleasure.

He comes hot and hard and utterly inevitable. He comes like he’s in love.

 

***

 

Jensen’s cock feels good in his mouth, heavy and solid, and Jared is utterly transfixed by the taste, keeps licking long after Jensen’s gone soft, swallowing come and spit until Jensen pulls him off with clumsy fingers.

Jared goes with it, kissing his way back up, because he can’t stop touching Jensen; pale, pale skin dusted everywhere with freckles, salty and perfect against his tongue. Jensen is panting, still coming down from his orgasm, and Jared steals the air out of his mouth, bites at his lips until they are pink and swollen and the sight of them makes Jared want to crawl right out of his skin and inside Jensen’s.

He grinds his hips against the hard line of Jensen’s thigh, small circular motions that are driving him crazy. “God, Jensen.” He breathes the words into the crook of Jensen’s neck, hushed and precarious like a secret. “Wanna fuck you.”

It’s really an entirely rhetorical statement at this point. They don’t have anything with them, no slick or condoms, and Jared is too far gone already anyway, but Jensen just moans up at him, slack-jawed and wanton, spreading his legs like getting fucked by Jared is maybe the best thing ever.

Jared opens his belt one-handed, scrabbling with the buttons urgently, kissing Jensen between the curses. He’s going to come any second now and he’d rather it be on Jensen than inside his own pants.

“You’re… God, just let me.” Jensen’s eyes are wide as he hooks his thumbs under Jared’s waistband and eases the jeans down over the swell of his ass. “_Jesus_. Look at you, Jay.” But Jared hasn’t got a clue what Jensen’s talking about because he’s busy looking at Jensen’s hand curling itself around—

“Fuck, _Jen_.” His hips snap into a sloppy rhythm, driving his cock into the tight circle of Jensen’s fingers, the head catching the smooth plane of his stomach on every down stroke.

Jared feels reckless and naked in a way that has nothing to do with lack of clothing, moans and pleas and stupid dangerous confessions falling from his lips unbidden; words like _so long_ and _mine_ and _love_.

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.” Jensen’s licking his jaw, teeth grazing the tender underside. _Yours_, he answers, sucking at the side of Jared’s neck, bringing the blood to the surface. _Forever._

Jared groans and fucks his tongue into Jensen’s mouth, slow and deep like maybe he wants to take up permanent residence, and Jensen lays a hand to the small of his back, pushing them closer like he’s okay with that.

“Come on, Jared,” Jensen rasps, pulling away slightly so he can watch Jared’s face. “Let me see.”

And just like that Jared’s coming, spilling over Jensen’s fingers and across their chests, the pleasure so keen it cuts him up and leaves him in pieces; like hurtling over the edge of the world, falling endlessly and never finding the ground.

He finds Jensen instead.

Finds Jensen’s mouth and body and heart, all open and waiting, catching Jared as he finally crashes down.

 

***

 

It’s well past noon by the time they return to the car. The countryside smells fresh after the rain, the colours washed clean, and under the cloudless summer sky Jensen feels somewhat mortified by his giant freak-out the night before. He makes noises about finding the owner of the barn, about offering some sort of recompense, but Jared just laughs, bright and affectionate, and tells him that unless he plans on spending the next week trekking from one remote farmhouse to another and possibly risking being chased out with shotguns and pitchforks, he better come to terms with their little trespassing incident.

Jared says it all in one breath, pressing Jensen against the side of the car, running lazy hands down his sides and around his back, the sun-warm metal groaning slightly under their combined weight. He looks happy and relaxed in a way he hasn’t for a while, and Jensen can’t get his head around the fact that _he’s_ the one responsible for putting that carefree expression on Jared’s face.

The fields around them are vast and quiet, barley and rye swaying in the wind like surf, and Jensen closes his eyes and pulls Jared down for a kiss. It’s slow burning and easy, Jared’s smile settling against his own with a quiet permanence that makes Jensen’s chest ache; the joy almost unbearably sweet and impossible to contain.

Jared knows all that, of course he does; sees right through Jensen into all the small, hidden places of him. “Hey,” he says, brushing his thumbs over Jensen’s cheekbones. “It’s okay, Jen. It’s okay.”

And because it’s _Jared_, always has been and always _will_ be, Jensen believes him.


End file.
